Chapter 284

After breakfast, Li Linshan went to the military camp, while Yachang stayed home to accompany his little father. Ever since Li Linshan left, Wang Xiujin had closed his eyes to rest. He had a persistent sense that something was about to happen—a feeling that unsettled him deeply. After a sleepless night, he soon drifted off, only to be haunted by the same disturbing dreams as the night before. Startled awake by the vivid images, Wang Xiujin found himself drenched in cold sweat, his eyes filled with panic, his hand clutching the bedding tightly as he exhaled sharply and narrowed his eyes. If the same dream recurs more than once, it is no longer simply a reflection of conscious thought; Wang Xiujin could not help but wonder if this was a sign from the heavens.

“Little father,” Yachang called softly, setting aside his book and running over when he saw Wang Xiujin awake.

Wang Xiujin raised his hand, intending to stroke his son’s hair, only to realize his palm was slick with sweat. Forcing a smile, he said, “Yachang, go call one of the servants in for me.” Though Yachang thought his father seemed odd, he couldn’t pinpoint why. Considering his father’s injury, he assumed the discomfort stemmed from that and, while summoning a servant, also asked when the imperial physician would arrive.

The servant entered quickly. Once Wang Xiujin confirmed who was at home, he sent Yachang off to play with Lin Fu and ordered the servant to fetch Manager Mi. Though Yachang was reluctant to leave his little father, he understood there was business to attend to and obediently went to find his aunt.

Manager Mi arrived swiftly. Wang Xiujin did not mention being frightened by dreams; he only said he felt there was something off about his injury and requested that, for safety, more people be assigned to protect family members who frequently went out, in case of any mishap. Manager Mi, knowing more than Wang Xiujin realized, did not object—in fact, even without Wang Xiujin’s suggestion, he would have made the same arrangements.

Even with these measures, Wang Xiujin remained uneasy. There was little more he could do; if he spoke of his dreams, he might be deemed a madman or even accused of witchcraft and burned at the stake—he did not wish for such a cruel end. Watching Manager Mi leave, Wang Xiujin felt a wave of regret. Had he been more cautious, he would not have been injured in the first place; now, though he wished to act, he was powerless. Manager Mi’s promise was not an empty one—knowing that Li Linshan was the likely target, he placed both visible and hidden guards around him, though other family members were not neglected, albeit with less protection.

Several days passed, but nothing could be gleaned from the interrogations of the Kou people. The chief interrogators were visibly displeased. Someone suggested inviting Kou envoys to the capital under some pretext, but the idea was dismissed—doing so now would only alert the enemy and provoke unpredictable actions. The interrogators believed that the Kou were also waiting, hoping for good news to be sent back; perhaps it was time to stage a show.

Thus, on the seventh day after Wang Xiujin’s injury, news spread through the capital that Li Linshan had been attacked and wounded. Yet, the so-called “victim” sat propped against his bedrail with a book, his shoulder loosely bandaged and stained with blood. Wang Xiujin watched Li Linshan; had he not seen how the bloodstains were made, he might have been fooled himself.

There was, in fact, no real injury. The blood was ox blood, and the imperial physician, entirely in the dark, dressed the wound with utmost seriousness. Wang Xiujin, observing the scene, was at a loss for words. If he had to say anything, it would be that all those “special effects” of later generations were nothing compared to the skills of their ancestors. The arrow wound appeared frighteningly realistic, and Li Linshan’s pale face and lips made him seem grievously hurt. This, at least, would save Wang Xiujin from endless nightmares and restless nights.

After the news of Li Linshan’s injury spread, the General’s Estate once again became the favored haunt of the capital’s elite. Visitors poured in, and though the steward tried to hold them off, the flow was relentless. Few of these people genuinely cared about the patient; they were simply hoping for a chance encounter with one of the princes who came daily to visit Li Linshan, eager to curry favor. If they could catch a prince’s eye, their future would be secure.

Now almost fully healed, Wang Xiujin often took a turn outside. Watching the civil and military officials who came every day after court, he shook his head. All this time spent currying favor would have been better spent on real work. None of these people were likely to impress the princes—they weren’t so easily fooled by simple gestures or empty shows of concern.

Looking at the crowd, Wang Xiujin saw a chaotic tangle of labels above their heads: corrupt, greedy, even murderers. Some had abandoned their parents or killed their wives. The sight sent a chill down his spine—what a group of monsters! If not for Li Linshan’s plan to lure out the big fish, Wang Xiujin would have ordered the gates shut and refused them entry. As it was, he made a note of those who visited with ulterior motives—especially those who disgusted him—and had the steward draw up a list to send to the Censorate.

As New Year’s Eve approached, the “big fish” they hoped to catch still had not surfaced, which left the conspirators somewhat disheartened. Within the General’s Estate, preparations for the New Year brought ever-increasing bustle, but Wang Xiujin dared not relax. With so many nobles visiting daily and servants coming and going for the festivities, a single moment’s inattention could spell disaster.

During these days, Yachang refused to leave the house or even his room, no matter who called. He simply sat on the soft couch, watching his father and little father with a severe expression. Sometimes, Wang Xiujin wondered if his son was growing more like Li Linshan. When the room was empty, Wang Xiujin would tease his son, but each time, he saw an unmistakable childishness in his eyes—a source of mild irritation. Why must a little child try so hard to act like an adult? Li Linshan merely watched their play with a hint of a smile, his expression softer than before, which Wang Xiujin noted with some satisfaction.

“Yachang, where are you in your reading? Read aloud and let little father hear,” Wang Xiujin said when there were no outsiders present. As long as he wasn’t being teased, Yachang was obedient, picking up the handwritten book and reading in earnest.

“Young master, Young Master Xiujin, it’s time for your medicine,” came a servant’s voice from outside. The voice was unfamiliar, and Wang Xiujin frowned, but still allowed the servant in. Yachang stopped reading immediately.

The servant who entered was a stranger, but the label above his head made Wang Xiujin tense. He nudged Li Linshan under the quilt. Li Linshan looked at him in confusion, but seeing the panic and tension in Wang Xiujin’s eyes, he quickly turned his attention to the servant, his gaze growing sharp and cold. The servant’s hand trembled slightly as he lowered his head, nervous but determined—if he succeeded, his future would be assured.

“Young master, your medicine.” The servant set the tray on the table, then picked up the bowl and stirred it slowly with a spoon—whether from nerves or excitement, his hand shook.

“First time? You seem nervous.” Wang Xiujin beckoned his son onto the bed, worried that Yachang might be taken hostage if he remained at the bedside.

“It’s not my first time preparing medicine,” the servant replied, feigning calm as he presented the bowl. “You should drink it while it’s hot, sir.”

“Why didn’t you bring the sweet pastries today?” Wang Xiujin pressed. Li Linshan, already holding the medicine, paused, shooting the servant an even colder look. “You didn’t bother to find out what was needed before coming. Very unprofessional.”

The servant froze, disbelief in his eyes as he looked at Wang Xiujin. A cold smirk curled Wang Xiujin’s lips. In a flash, Li Linshan leapt forward, pinned the servant, and dislocated his jaw to prevent him from biting his tongue or shouting for help. Wang Xiujin did not move, his smile growing even colder. “Tie him up tight—don’t let him escape,” he said while ruffling Yachang’s hair. “You see, son? Even if you turn to villainy one day, you need brains. This one clearly left his behind.”

Li Linshan paused for a moment but continued binding the servant without looking up. The bound servant glared furiously at Wang Xiujin. Yachang watched, then nodded solemnly, his expression unusually earnest.

“I remember there’s an empty chest inside. Put him in there,” Wang Xiujin instructed, pointing to a chest their teacher had sent earlier, once filled with silver. The silver could be removed to make room—the weight would be about the same.

After tying up the servant, Li Linshan tried to lift the chest but found it too heavy. Opening it, he discovered it was still full of silver. Mouth agape, he made no sound, then found a cloth to wrap up the silver. The servant, watching all this, felt his eyes go blue with greed, but, jaw dislocated, could only drool helplessly.

Wang Xiujin looked at the mess with regret—not for the man but for the carpet. Such a fine carpet, ruined before the New Year; he wondered if there was still time to replace it.

After stuffing the man in the chest, Li Linshan straightened up, made no show of lifting the heavy box, but calmly poured out the medicine and hurled the bowl at the wall with a crisp shatter. Soon, several people rushed in. “Young master, what happened?”

“My hand slipped and broke the bowl.”

Author’s note: Back to work tomorrow! If there’s no overtime, updates will be between ten and eleven at night; if there is, apologies in advance. Just a little longer till the holiday, then a long break. Counting down the days just like the rest of you!